'What the hell are you doing?'

When I walked down the stairs this morning, I didn't expect to find my little brother cooking. By himself, unsupervised, and somehow without burning down the kitchen as I would have done if I had attempted the same task.

Really doing favors for my ego.

'Cooking,' said Elijah, flipping the pancake on the frying pan in a way which I had only ever seen in movies. 'Don't touch the lasagna,' he said, nodding his head towards the plastic take-out box in which there was a mouth-watering lasagna. 

'You cooked lasagna?' I asked, frowning as I sat on the kitchen island, right beside where the delicious lasagna was cooling down. 

'Yep,' hummed Elijah, nodding his head as he used a spatula to lift the pancake onto the plate where there was already a pile. He turned off the stove, before going to fridge from which he brought maple syrup and a can of whipped cream. 'The pancakes are for you.'

Was I imagining this?

'You're eleven.'

'I'm aware,' said Elijah, his usual sarcasm returning, 'I'm eleven, not stupid. Though, there's no age restriction for stupid,' his eyes scanned me over.

Motherfu -

'Who's the lasagna for then? You?' I asked, as Elijah handed me a plate of pancakes which was smothered with whipped cream and maple syrup. 'I wanted to chocolate syrup,' I complained, prodding the pancakes with the fork Elijah had given me.

'Suck it up,' said Elijah. 

Elijah should never procreate. 

'And the lasagna is for mom,' he slid into the seat beside me. 'She forgot lunch, and I thought I'd make her some.'

Sometimes, Elijah was a lot more mature than me. It was honestly degrading - but it was good to know that despite his sarcastic comments and all the insults, he still cared. 

'Mama's boy,' I teased, pinching his cheeks. Elijah slapped away my hand, scoffing.

'Ronnie,' I winced at the sound of the horrible nickname Elijah had picked for me, 'you used to follow mom around like a dog.' I took back what I said - about him caring. He clearly hated me. 

'I'll drop it off after eating,' I mumbled, stuffing a huge chunk of pancake into my mouth to stop any further unwanted insults from Elijah.

After finishing breakfast, I drove to the hospital.

I hate the hospital, though to be honest, I didn't know too many people who genuinely liked being at the hospital, even if their presence there was the only thing keeping them alive.

'Hi, Merridith,' I said, greeting the middle-aged lady who had been the receptionist at the hospital long before I was born. 'Mom forgot her lunch,' I held up the bag in which Elijah had put the lasagna in to further accentuate my point.

'She's in her office,' said Merredith, waving an airy hand. 'Don't go inside - she's having a check-up with a patient.'

I nodded, before walking down a familiar hallway.

Back when I had been younger, my mom would always take me to the hospital. That was during the time when I had wanted to become a doctor and save lives - a dream which was crushed once my father was admitted to the hospital.

He had lung cancer, from when he used to smoke - something that would make me know better about smoking myself, but... the point was he died. When I was only seven years old - before Elijah had been born.

Yeah - Elijah had never met our father. To make it even worse, our father died the day he was born. Five minutes after my mom had given birth. 

That day, a new person joined the Black household and we lost someone. 

I tried to keep my visits to the hospital minimal - but despite that, I still knew my way around the place. 

In a few minutes, I was standing in front of the door to my mom's office - unsure of whether to knock.

I didn't need to knock because at that second, the door swung forward, and somebody crashed into me. They stumbled backwards, cursing softly for a second before looking up, glaring at me.

It wasn't just anyone.

It was Jasmine, but what was she doing in the hospital? And more importantly, why was she having a private check-up with my mother?

'What are you doing here?' I asked, voicing my thoughts, frowning down at her. She smiled - a smile which was undoubtedly forced and didn't reach to her eyes. Despite her smile, she looked panicked. She definitely hadn't expected to see me here - and she didn't like that she had been caught.

But why?

'Just visiting.' Lies. She was a horrible liar; her voice was squeaky - and an octave higher than normal. Did she really think I was stupid enough to not be able to recognize a liar?

'You're a filthy liar, Jasmine,' I whispered, tucking a black strand behind her ear. I leaned even closer so that my lips were almost touching her ears. 'And a horrible one at that.'

Was I trying to seduce Jasmine into telling me the truth?

Yes.

Was it working?

I would rather not answer that, my ego had already got damaged enough for today. 

'Yep,' she admitted. Maybe my seducing did work - or maybe it didn't because she was stepping back. 'But it's still none of your business - so I'll be off.' And that's how she left, saluting me with her middle finger. 

I might've been amused - if I didn't think something was wrong. If I didn't feel like there was a much darker reason for her being her.

And when did her and my mom become friends?

It's so weird - first Elijah, and now my mom? 

I didn't even know her parents, and Isaac and I had been friends for a long time. 

Realizing she was gone, I stepped into the office, kissing the top of my mom's head as I dropped her lunch on her desk. She took it, marveling at the lasagna which was still warm.

'Elijah made it,' I said. She nodded, turning on her chair to look at me.

'Thanks for bringing it,' my mom said, smiling at me. I nodded and was about to leave before my curiosity got the better of me. 

'Why was Jasmine here?' I asked.

Silence.

'It's not my secret to share,' she said, and with that - I was rather unceremoniously kicked out of her office. 

Just great.

A/N: Soooooooo...

I have no social life, or friends so all of the break I'm just going to be writing. Be prepared for a bunch of new chapters. However, it might be a bit slow because I've almost caught up to the original book - so I need to keep writing new chapters for Disgustingly Cliche too. 

Disgustingly Cliche, which you should read, because I don't really think any of you are reading it. Oh - and I checked some of the stats for the books. 

Apparently, most of my readers are middle-aged - or older than 25 and uh - this is teen fiction, but I'm just not going to question it.

I've really kept my promise of posting books 24/7. Only in twenty-four hours, I have posted three chapters. And one from the original book, introducing a new character. And that with an adequate amount of sleep. 

Anywho, my joke for today.

Why is being in the military like a blowjob?

Now ask why.

The closer you get to discharge, the better you feel. 

What age recommendation would you give the book, because it doesn't feel very PG rated anymore. 

That's all for the day.